Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

Melisa woke up pissed.

Not the cute kind of grumpy where Isabella would kiss her awake and shake off whatever bad dream she'd had.

No, this was the bone-deep irritation that meant someone... somewhere... had fucked with her morning routine.

And she didn't know how.

But she felt it.

She rolled out of bed, her black tail whipping behind her as she stomped toward the door. Her oversized sleep shirt, one she'd stolen from Isabella, barely covered her ass, but whatever. If someone woke her up this early, they could deal with the view.

And, well, in this house, some people would probably be happy to see that view anyway.

The source of her psychic-level annoyance became crystal clear when she padded downstairs.

Melisa rounded the corner to find Sirah, all seven feet of muscled darian glory, practicing sword forms in their garden.

Half-naked. Because of course she was half-naked.

The morning sun gleamed off her wild red hair and the sweat trickling down her abs and bare tits. Her remaining hand gripped a practice sword with the kind of casual strength that made lesser beings, like certain pink-haired kitsunes, who didn't have Melisa's willpower weak in the knees.

Melisa stomped once on the floor.

[Why. Why is she HERE?]

"Morning, sweetheart," Margaret called from the porch, coffee mug in hand. Her silver hair caught the light as she openly ogled Sirah's ass. "Sleep well?"

"Mom!" Melisa's voice cracked. "I told you not to let her just barge in whenever!"

Margaret took a long sip of coffee, eyes never leaving Sirah's flexing back muscles.

"I couldn't just leave her out in the cold, honey. What kind of host would I be?"

"It's summer!"

"Details, details. It wouldn't have been polite."

Sirah must have heard them because she turned, practice sword resting on her shoulder. Her blue eyes locked onto Melisa like a homing missle. A slow, dangerous grin spread across her face.

"Ah, my little mage awakens." She stalked toward the house, each step deliberate. "Did you dream of me, darling?"

"I dreamed of sleeping past dawn for once in my life."

"I could tire you out properly." Sirah leaned against the doorframe, close enough that Melisa could smell the clean sweat and that uniquely darian scent. "Then you'd sleep like a babe."

"Pass." Melisa ducked under her arm and headed for the kitchen. Coffee. She needed coffee before she dealt with this.

Sirah followed, because of course she did.

"Your mother has excellent taste in viewing spots."

"Don't hit on my mom!"

"Why not?" Margaret laughed. "I'm flattered! It's been ages since a warrior tried to seduce me. Usually it's all mages and merchants these days."

Melisa grabbed a mug with perhaps more force than necessary. The coffee pot rattled as she poured. Behind her, she could hear Sirah's low chuckle.

"Your daughter fights like you flirt, you know," Sirah told Margaret. "All passion, no technique. I'm willing to teach you both a thing or two, though."

"Excuse me?" Melisa whirled around. "My technique is fine!"

"Of course not. Your grip is too tight. You telegraph your moves. And you keep dropping your shoulder when you—"

"Good morning, everyone!" Melistair's cheerful voice cut through Melisa's building tirade. Her father entered the kitchen, took one look at the topless darian, and merely raised an eyebrow. "Sirah. Training early again?"

"The sword waits for no one." She gave him an appraising look. "You must be proud. Your wife and daughter are magnificent."

Melistair's tail swished. A slight blush colored his cheeks as he smiled meekly.

"Ah, well, I—that is—"

"Dad!" Melisa slammed her mug down. "Tell her she can't just show up naked in our garden!"

"Actually," Melistair rubbed the back of his neck, "the view from the kitchen window during morning training has been quite... educational."

"OH MY GODS." Melisa buried her face in her hands. "Y-You're both terrible. You're all terrible."

"Come now, darling," Margaret patted the seat beside her as they migrated to the breakfast table. "Sit. Eat. Stop being so dramatic."

Sirah, mercifully, wandered back outside to continue her training. Through the window, Melisa could see her going through forms that were honestly impressive, even one-handed. Not that she was looking. Much.

"So," Margaret buttered a piece of toast, "you've been going to the palace more often."

Melisa shrugged, poking at her eggs. She was thankful for the distraction from Sirah's annoying existence.

"The queen values my advice."

"Mhm. And it has nothing to do with how Queen Aria looks in those tight riding pants?"

"Mom!"

"What? I have eyes. I've seen her when she graces Syux's streets. That girl might have a very petite frame, but she knows how to work it."

Melisa groaned.

"We're not... It's not like that. She needs someone who understands both humans and nim. The court's been pushing back against her reforms. And, me, well, I've been around humans, in a non-slave kinda way, longer than most nim."

"Of course, dear." Margaret's smile was far too knowing. "Purely professional."

"It is!"

"Just like Sirah showing up every morning is purely about sword training?"

"That's different. She's just trying to get in my pants."

"Is she succeeding?"

"MOM."

Margaret laughed, that warm sound that filled the kitchen.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop teasing. But honey, you're eighteen. You're allowed to have fun."

"I have fun. I have Isabella. And Ra-" Melisa was about to list off her friends but Margaret cut Melisa off.

"Isabella doesn't count. That girl would fuck a statue if it winked at her."

Melisa choked on her coffee. Her mother wasn't wrong, but still.

"Besides," Margaret continued, "variety is the spice of life. And that darian looks like she could lift a house."

"Please stop talking."

"I'm just saying, if you don't want her, I might—"

"MOM, NO."

A knock at the door saved Melisa from further mortification. She practically sprinted to answer it, finding a nervous-looking courier in royal colors.

"Lady Blackflame?" The young man's eyes widened slightly at her state of undress. Melisa remembered she was still in just a sleep shirt. Whatever. She'd seen him at worse parties.

"That's me."

"Summons from Her Majesty." He handed over a sealed letter. "She requests your immediate presence."

Melisa broke the seal, scanning Aria's neat handwriting. Brief, to the point, and somehow still managing to sound vaguely irritated. Classic Aria.

"Tell her I'll be there within the hour."

The courier bowed and scurried off. Melisa closed the door and leaned against it. Great. Whatever this was about, it probably meant her day was about to get a lot more complicated.

Through the window, she could see Sirah had finished her forms and was now doing one-armed pushups. Because of course she was.

[This is my life now. Horny darians in my garden and cryptic summons from the queen.]

"Everything alright?" Margaret called.

"Yeah. Just another day in paradise." Melisa headed for the stairs. "I need to get dressed. Try not to let Sirah seduce you while I'm gone."

"No promises!"

Melisa's groan echoed through the house.

[The queen... What does she want?]

Melisa would have to go and find out.